Page 61 of By the Book

I walked for a while. We passed Fishermen’s Market, where people were still lined up and waiting to order. (Word of advice, never get between a family of four and their Captain’s Platter of fried seafood—I would have been trampled, except Bobby caught the back of my jacket and hauled me clear.) Out on the pier, a bell was ringing, letting everyone know someone had won one of the games of skill and chance. Mr. Li waved at us from his vendor tent. When the waves broke, I could feel the faintest hint of the spray on my cheek, salty and bracing. Bobby took my hand and laced our fingers together.

And then walking wasn’t enough anymore. I stopped. I looked out at the water. The sun had shrunk to a red dot, about to sink beneath the waves, and the sound of all that water moving, rhythmic and restless, made me feel like the whole world was shifting.

“I’m fine,” I said.

Bobby rubbed my back.

“I’m just so angry,” I said. “I can’t believe they’d do something like that. Actually, Icanbelieve it. This is classic them. Nothing matters but what they want. They’ve got a conference, sorry it’s your birthday. They’ve got a workshop, sorry about Homecoming. Dottie visited this amazing temple, and we want to explore it with her, so here’s two hundred dollars for groceries until we get back. Call the police if you need anything.”

Ignoring my feeble resistance, Bobby pulled me into a hug. His hair was soft, and he smelled like that clean, sporty, masculine scent that I’d come to associate with him. It was different, watching the waves over his shoulder.

“I love you,” he said, barely loud enough to reach my ear.

I nodded.

He tightened his arms. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.Theyneed to be sorry. They should be ashamed of themselves, as a matter of fact. Acting like that in front of you. You’re the person I chose. You. If they want to be in my life, they need to get on board and not—not call you ‘the new one.’ God, I am so sorry, Bobby. All that nonsense about the consulting business and moving out to the farm. Do you want to break up with me? Just push me into the water if you do. I’ll go quietly. I won’t even cry for help, I’ll just burble softly as I sink under the waves.”

Bobby whispered sweetly, “I find that hard to believe.”

Actually, it wasn’t a whisper. It was his normal voice.

And it wasn’t all that sweet, come to think of it.

“Hey!”

But when I tried to get free, he tightened his arms around me, and he held me for a while. Long after I’d given up trying to escape from the meanest boyfriend in the universe.

“What can I do for you right now?”

“Nothing. Thank you.”

He huffed a little laugh that sounded surprisingly tangled.

“Oh,” I said. Because Bobby’s default was to make everything his responsibility.

“I feel like I’m exercising a lot of self-control right now by not offering to go put your parents in a headlock.”

“Actually, that would be amazing. Can you give them noogies while you’re at it? No, wait, does the sheriff’s office still believe in a public stockade? Is there a supply of rotten vegetables? What does the town charter say about tar-and-feathering?”

“Sometimes I forget you were alone a lot as a child,” he murmured.

“Bobby!”

“Don’t yell in my ear.”

“Be more supportive. And kissy.”

He did kiss me then, and he tucked my hair behind the arm of my glasses as he asked, “Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do you want to go to the Cakery?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do—”

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